


I'll Paint You As If You're the Finest Glass

by paintsplatteredteardrops



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Paint Kink, Riding, Size Difference, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintsplatteredteardrops/pseuds/paintsplatteredteardrops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys have the day off and Harry and Louis find themselves with nothing to do at home, so they decide to rummage through their game’s closet to salvage their boredom. When they stumble upon ‘Twister’, Louis gets an unorthodox idea that takes Harry by surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Paint You As If You're the Finest Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the 'Messy Twister' photo because who doesn't want Louis and Harry fucking while covered in paint? This was fun, I enjoyed writing it and I'd be pleased to hear your feedback. If you have any questions, you can contact me on Tumblr; my URL is volouminous. Massive thank you to Noemie as usual for being patient enough to beta for me.

 

It’s the first day off they’ve had in a while and Louis is spending it sitting on the end of the couch, Harry’s long body spread across the rest of it, his head in Louis’ lap as Louis plays idly with his hair. It should be boring, Louis thinks, lounging around, doing nothing but watching a dull black-and-white movie due to lack of other options. But Harry is there and it would be impossible to refer to any time spent with his favourite boy as anything but wonderful, regardless of the circumstances.

Harry clearly doesn’t share his thoughts, as he’s doing what he always does when he’s bored and craving movement; tapping his leg against the arm of the couch, causing it to shake slightly. Louis pushes Harry’s hair away from his forehead to see his eyes, smile fond as he strokes Harry’s cheek with his other hand.

“Everything all right, love?”

Harry sighs, shifting to lie on his back so he’s staring up at Louis. “I’m proper bored,” he huffs, and somehow, even when he’s pouting like a petulant child he’s still the most wonderful thing Louis has ever seen.

“Need I remind you that you were the one who suggested we stay in today?” Louis says, leaning down with a teasing smile to peck Harry’s lips. Harry bares his teeth as Louis pulls away, nipping slightly at Louis’ bottom lip. “Hey, play nice!”

“I dunno,” he sighs. “I guess I’m just not used to staying in so I forgot how boring it was.”

“Well, there’s not that many places we can go,” Louis tells him, battling the fierce resentment that builds in his chest at the reminder of their limitations. “Unless you’re all right with sneaking about.”

“Nah,” he says, pressing his hands against the couch to push himself closer to Louis until he’s practically sitting in his lap. He wraps his arms around Louis’ neck and Louis meets him halfway in a sweet, smiling kiss. After a few more small, lazy kisses, Harry presses their foreheads together and says, “I’m fine just staying here with you. I just wish we had something to do.”

Louis contorts his mouth in consideration, his mind searching for options. “I’ve got an idea,” he moves to stand up, not even bothering to remove Harry from his lap. Harry laughs and tightens his grip around his neck, his feet touching the floor when Louis stands to full height. Louis takes his hand and leads him into their guestroom, stopping at one of the side closets. He flings open the doors quickly, expanding his arms wide and nearly knocking Harry in the jaw.

“Voila!”

Harry looks puzzled. “Board games, Louis? Really?”

Louis lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Harry say what? You don’t like board games?”

“I didn’t even know we had these, to be honest,” he says, scratching the back of his head.

“I kind of stole them from my mum’s house when I was on a visit and brought them in without telling you.” Harry stares at him with raised eyebrows. Louis holds his hands up defensively. “Hey; forever young, Peter Pan. Remember?”

Rolling his eyes, Harry turns back around to face the closet. His mouth twists in thought. “I guess we could give one a go.” His eyes widen suddenly, sparkle replacing the reluctant boredom, as he apparently settled on something he likes. “Twister!” He exclaims, reaching to grab the box from the top shelf and barely raising himself on his toes to do so. Louis envies the fucker his ridiculous tallness. Louis would’ve needed to be placed on Harry’s shoulders to reach it. “I haven’t played this in years!”

“Excellent choice, that,” Louis says, hooking his chin over Harry’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Was it your favourite then?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, eyes wandering over the box nostalgically. “It’s a great method to flirt. When you both fall, it’s like an automatic excuse to make out.”

Furrowing his brow, Louis clutches at Harry’s hips and spins him around, his grip tight and possessive, and Harry laughs in surprise as the box hits the ground. “So you’re telling me you used this tactic a lot?”

“Why?” Harry asks, flashing Louis a lop-sided grin. His arms find their way around his neck once again. “You jealous?”

“Oh, piss off,” Louis groans, leaning forward to kiss the smirk off Harry’s lips. Harry hums in appreciation, sinking his fingers into Louis’ hair and holding his head in place. As they kiss and Louis’ stomach flips at the feel of Harry’s deliciously plump, full lips, an idea pops into Louis’ head, his eyes flickering toward the box on the floor. He can’t fight the smirk that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

He detaches their lips with a barely audible moan and, when Harry whines and attempts to close the gap once again, Louis hushes him with a finger to his lips. “Now, babe, don’t get greedy. Look, I’ve got an idea.”

Harry looks confused. “I thought we were gonna play Twister?”

“We are,” Louis confirms, releasing Harry and bending over to retrieve the fallen box. He places it in Harry’s hands and moves his own to Harry’s shoulders. “Go set up the game. I’ll be out in a moment.”

He still looks puzzled, but Harry has always been a submissive person, so he agrees and turns to return to the living room, glancing back at Louis once. Louis’ grin, as Harry’s figure disappears, is devilish.

When he returns to the living room a few minutes later, he is wearing a light jacket and Harry is flattening the mat onto the carpet. Harry looks up at him, eyes flickering up and down his new attire.

“Where are you off to?” He says, clearly exasperated by the cryptic secrecy of Louis’ plan.

“You’ll see.” He leans down to kiss the frown off Harry’s lips. He presses their foreheads together, speaking lowly, “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t have too much fun without me.” He pecks Harry’s lips once more before bounding toward the front door.

He thinks he can still hear the sounds of Harry whines and groans of protest as he starts to car.

When Louis returns twenty-five minutes later, Harry has returned to the couch, his feet propped on the table in front of him. Louis smiles as he enters, bellowing ‘Lucy, I’m home!’ and jingling two heavy looking plastic bags in front of him. Harry has no idea what is going on.

“Where did you go?” Harry asks, pushing himself off the couch and circling the table to meet Louis.

“Craft store,” Louis answers, dropping one of the bags and using his now free hand to pull Harry into a kiss. “Sorry it took so long. Long line-up.”

“You are literally the most confusing, erratic person I have ever met.”

“Isn’t it charming?” Louis says with a crinkly-eyed smile. Harry shakes his head in disbelief and chuckles, his eyes never leaving Louis as he mutters ‘How are you even real?’ under his breath.

Both bags having found their way to the floor, Louis squats down to reveal the contents, pulling out several large cylindrical bottles of paint. He holds two bottles of red toward Harry and intones, “Tada!”

“Paint?” Harry gapes at him, his pretty pink mouth falling open. “Paint, what are you -” His eyes widen suddenly in realization and he bursts into hysterical laughter, clapping his hands like a seal. “Oh God, you can’t be serious?”

“As serious as your love for cock,” Louis says matter-of-factly, smiling with endearing childishness as he holds the bottles.

Harry snorts and his laughter seizes. His palm frames his forehead and he pushes his hair back, his other hand resting on his hip. “Lou… this is a really sick idea and all but, I don’t think you realize that I’m the one who does the laundry in this flat…”

Placing the paint on the floor, Louis stands up with a wicked smile, approaching Harry and fiddling with the top button of his flannel shirt. “Well, that’s the fun part.” Harry is confused again. “Take off your clothes,” he says sternly, pecking Harry on the cheek and turning to begin his work with the paint.

“What is this?” Harry asks with a vibrant laugh. “Naked, messy Twister?”

“That’s exactly it.” Louis is already sitting next to the mat, opening a bottle of red paint and carefully pouring a puddle meticulously on each red circle. He glances at Harry from beneath his fringe as he pours the paint. “Leave your drawers though. Don't want to get paint on your dick, especially not if I’m planning on fucking you afterward.”

Louis isn’t looking at Harry anymore, now opening a bottle of green and beginning to fill the circles, but he can hear the smug delight in Harry’s voice. “And are you planning to?” His voice is teasing and dirty.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Louis says. “Now, clothes. Off.” He snaps his fingers at Harry petulantly, who laughs and immediately begins unbuttoning his shirt. “Remember, leave the drawers.”

“You got it, boss.”

Louis is finishing the last of the blue circles by the time Harry discards his socks and stands next to the mat. His eyes are met with the long length of Harry’s legs as he looks up at him under his fringe and they grin at each other as Louis stands to begin removing his clothes. Their eye contact never breaks, even as Louis’ shirt envelops his head as it travels from his torso to the floor, unwavering still as Louis fiddles with the button of his jeans.

As Louis is removing his socks, Harry bends over and dips two fingers in a slab of red paint, dipping another two on his opposite hand in some green. Louis doesn’t protest, simply laughs as Harry strokes his wet fingers down Louis’ chest, lines of paint slanting as they graze over the curves of Louis’ ribs. He creates criss-crosses and lines with the utmost concentration, his tongue sticking out between his lips and finishes by flicking the remaining paint against his hipbones. His face breaks out in a wide grin, dimples gloriously in display.

“You look like Christmas,” he giggles.

“More like a blind person’s canvas for finger painting,” Louis says teasingly as he looks down at his chest. “Now are we gonna play the game or not?”

Harry gives a dry sort of laugh and nods, bending down to retrieve the spinner from the ground and place it next to the mat where both can reach. They step carefully onto the mat, keeping a steady grip on each other’s wrists to avoid slipping on the paint. Harry laughs. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” Louis stands on his tip-toes to kiss him.

“All right, since this was technically your idea,” Louis says, clapping his hands together, “you go first.”

Harry squats down and gives the arrow a strong tap, head spinning along with the arrow as his eyes follow its movements. ‘ _God_ ,’ Louis thinks. ‘ _My boyfriend’s an idiot_.’ “Right hand green,” Harry enunciates when it finally stops. He turns around, shoving his arse in Louis’ face and giving it a little shake as he bends to reach the nearest green circle, his hand squishing audibly in the paint.

“Tart,” Louis accuses playfully, giving his bum a light smack and proceeding to take his turn. “Left foot yellow.” He glances over his shoulder toward the row of yellow dots, leaning backward to stick his foot in the yellow paint, nearly slipping as he does so. He grabs onto Harry’s waist to support himself and finds his face pressed very close to Harry’s spine. He smirks privately and flicks his tongue against the skin, dragging it up his back. Harry gasps and nearly tumbles over in surprise.

“Bastard!” He squawks, using his free hand to reach behind him and smack Louis on the arm. “No surprises, that’s cheating!” Louis gives another playful lick, darting his tongue out repeatedly like a snake. “Now, fuck off and spin for me, my hand is occupied.”

“Left hand green!” Harry marvels. “Isn’t this my lucky day?” He places his left hand on the green circle easily, glancing smugly at Louis over his shoulder.

“Don’t be cheeky,” Louis scolds and reaches over to spin the arrow. “Right hand green. Shit.”

Harry barks out a laugh as Louis steadies himself with a hand on his arse and reaches forward, stretching painfully to reach the far-away green circle. “Be easier if you weren’t so tiny,” Harry teases.

“Do you know how easily I could push you down?” Louis just barely reaches the inside, balancing himself on two fingers. “All right, you’ve got to spin it now.”

Harry lifts his hand from the paint, careful to steady himself, and twists his wrist around to lay his palm against Louis’ back, leaving a huge, bright green handprint. He is way too into this, lifting his arse further and swinging his hips slightly into Louis’ face as he reaches over to take this turn. “Right foot blue. Ah, this is gonna be difficult.”

Lowering his arse, he twists his body around carefully, moving his right hand to rest where his left hand currently sits and expertly doing vice versa for the other. His crotch is now in Louis’ face, his sculpted chest now in full view, and Louis feels his breath hitch at the sight. He is so distracted that he doesn’t notice Harry’s foot has already reached the blue circle until Harry is nudging him with his cold, wet toes.

“Oh, right,” Louis says, jolting out of his reverie. He places his hand on a scarce patch of white to hold himself up as he removes his hand from the paint, grinning as he mimics Harry and presses his palm against Harry’s stomach to leave a handprint. He spins the spinner, eyeing the long lean of Harry’s body. “Left foot red.” He grins up at Harry, sliding his foot out of the yellow and dragging it toward the adjacent red dot. He moves his other foot so he’s now crouching between Harry’s legs, so close he could almost kiss him.

The thought now ingrained in his head, Louis lifts up once again and uses his green hand to spin the wheel for Harry. However, he cheats, dragging the arrow around so it lands on right hand red.

“I saw that!” Harry says. “You cheated!” But he is laughing and it’s beautiful. Louis shrugs his shoulders as if to say ‘oh well, what are you gonna do?’ and Harry shakes his head with a chuckle, lifting his right hand and balancing himself on his other to reach into the red paint. He slides into it until their faces are pressed close, noses barely an inch apart.

“Hi,” Louis whispers, vision crowded with Harry’s smiling face. He bridges the gap and presses soft kisses to Harry’s lips, giggling when Harry pulls back to bite his jaw. “Did that so I could kiss you.”

“Obviously,” Harry murmurs with a roll of his eyes. He lifts his foot, which is now almost completely covered in blue paint, and drags his toes along Louis’ calve. Louis shudders at both the coldness and the feeling of Harry’s skin against his. “Now go.” When Louis angles his head to work the spinner, Harry leans in to press slow kisses to his exposed neck, licking a stripe of skin and stopping to nip at his ear.

Louis shudders at the feeling, his fingers trembling and legs becoming wobbly as the stroke of Harry’s tongue goes straight to his cock. He’s already half-hard and they haven’t even done anything yet. “Left hand green,” he says, voice hoarse from arousal. He clears his throat roughly in response. As he reaches around Harry to sink his hand into the closest green circle, he catches his lips briefly in a deep kiss.

“This is fun,” Harry observes. “Why doesn’t everyone do this for foreplay?”

He is beginning to feel the strain of his stretching limbs and his dick is getting harder by the minute, eyes zeroing in on all the most delicious aspects of Harry (his gorgeous, toned chest; his perfect pink lips; his drowsy, hooded bedroom eyes; the wide, expansive length of his palms and fingers). The sheer fact that Harry is able to reach the spinner effortlessly and extend his legs to the farthest dot is even a huge fucking turn on. In fact, Louis thinks there is really nothing about this situation that doesn’t turn him on.

They last a surprisingly long time, dragging out the process until Louis is hard as a rock, marking each other with their rainbow fingertips and palms until their bodies essentially resemble a finger-painting canvas. Harry is extremely skilled at the game, which Louis attributes to the strength of his arms and legs as well as the fact that his body is practically 2 metres long. Louis doesn’t fare as well, his short, dainty limbs struggling to stretch as far as they need to, usually barely reaching the edge of the circle, but he holds his own anyway.

Louis is beginning to grow impatient, and Harry must be as well, he rationalizes, judging by the erection poking through his boxers, yet he manages to remain utterly coy. He smiles serenely down at Louis, obviously taking some sort of sick pleasure in Louis’ growing sexual frustration. Harry’s body is curved over his now, one hand resting in a patch of blue, the other in yellow. Both his feet stand in the red, the paint mixing with the previous colours he’d stood in, creating some strange, wonky dark colour. Louis is under him, left hand in red and right in yellow, left foot stretched back to blue and right also in yellow.

Harry is teasing him, being such a fucking tease that Louis wants to hit him as much as he wants to fuck him senseless. He’s licking his lips and lifting his stained hand to rub against the stark white of his boxers, palming his cock and stroking it through the material in a way that could only be described as calculated. The paint leaves an outline around his crotch, accentuating the prominent bulge and sending shivers down Louis’ spine. When Harry reaches over to take his turn he always makes sure to graze his fingers along Louis’ shoulder blades, certain to lick any free patch of his skin as it becomes available, and Louis isn’t sure how much more he can take.

Although dirty talk has never really been their thing - not that it wasn't fucking hot - Harry likes to break it out when he knows Louis’ hunger for him is insatiable, like now. Louis knees go weak and his stomach flips as he listens to the dirty whisper Harry mutters under his breath, gems such as “Can’t wait till we both fall so you can fuck me,” and “God, Lou, you want me so bad I can feel it,” and Louis is almost ready to beg for it.

So when Louis reaches over to take another turn, and Harry bends to breathe “Can’t wait to ride you, Lou, so good,” Louis has had _enough_.

A strangled groan escapes his lips and he lifts his right leg to strike behind Harry’s knees. Harry all but squeaks in surprise and topples over, his torso colliding with Louis’ as Louis spins his body around to catch Harry. Louis’ back hits the mat with a squish and a thud and before Harry can stop laughing and recover from his fall, Louis is grabbing his face with his messy hands and kissing him without any preamble or grace.

Their teeth clink together before their lips meet, but all is well because soon enough Harry’s tongue is in his mouth and Louis can feel his erection through his boxers and Louis’ mind is so blurry with need and desire he can barely register the pain. Harry adjusts to Louis’ fervour quickly, running his large, rough hands down Louis’ biceps and leaving dark streaks everywhere. Louis’ back is sliding around in the thick globs of paint beneath, Harry’s heavy figure above him doing little to steady him, but Louis can’t bring himself to care.

He doesn’t even care that his back is without a doubt covered from shoulder to arse in a rainbow of paint; all he cares is that Harry is hot and insistent and rutting above him. They kiss messily as Louis presses his palms against every bare inch of Harry’s skin, marking him from top to bottom. Harry shivers at the cold, groaning into Louis’ mouth and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as their lips part. Their cocks are pressed together through their boxers, pointing toward each other and begging to be touched.

After creating a necklace of love bites around Louis’ neck and collarbones, Harry wets his fingers with red and yellow and smears them along his neck, his fingers rough and forceful as he covers each mark of his mouth and teeth with colourful fingerprints. Louis is panting when he pulls Harry in by the neck, kissing him with reckless abandon. He bucks his hips upward, desperate to be as close to Harry as possible. He wants absolutely no space between them, wants to feel every inch of Harry’s hard body pressing against his.

“God, Harry,” Louis breathes raggedly in the brief moment their lips aren’t touching, Harry mouthing and sucking at his jaw, “Want you so bad. Want to make you come.”

Harry groans deeply and moves to crush their mouths together once again, curving Louis’ top lip upward with the force of his thick tongue. Louis whines into his mouth, cupping Harry’s face with his paint-slick hands, leaving red and green handprints on either cheek. ' _Yes_ ', Louis thinks, ' _good. Mark him.'_

The confines of their boxers become too much and Louis slides his hands down Harry’s back to grip his arse, kneading it between his fingers before flattening his palm and giving it a hard spank. Harry’s mouth falls open in a broken moan, his tongue hitting the roof of Louis’ mouth.

“Take them off,” Louis growls, “but don’t stop kissing me.”

Harry glares at him, closing the distance and attacking Louis’ lips feverishly. He removes his hands from Louis’ hips long enough to slip his boxers underneath his arse, his lips never leaving Louis’ as promised. He wiggles his hips to shimmy out of them, bracing himself on the slippery mat to slide them around his feet. Louis takes advantage of the space to remove his own briefs, struggling but managing to keep his lips glued to Harry’s as he lifts himself to pull them past his arse.

He doesn’t have time to remove them completely before Harry’s cock is pressing against his, sending a jolt of electricity along his spine and distracting him from the task at hand. Harry is still kissing him, still ravaging his mouth with his slick, wet tongue, and Louis is on sensory overload as Harry begins rutting against him, shifting downward so their cocks are in line.

Wrapping his arms around Harry’s broad shoulders, Louis pulls him closer, licking deep into his mouth and moaning when Harry swipes his tongue along his teeth. Louis can feel the paint being smeared all over their chests as their bodies press flush together, feels the slippery slide of it beneath him as Harry thrusts against his thighs. Harry detaches their lips finally, pressing his forehead against Louis’ and groaning gruffly as their cocks rub together. Louis runs his rough nails across Harry’s back, pressing hard kisses to his chin and jaw, blissfully ignorant to the sound of his own hitching breath. Harry throws his head back as Louis’ nails scratch down his back and he bites down hard on his lip before his face falls down against Louis’ forehead.

Louis’ fingers are too weak to dig into Harry’s skin any longer, falling slack against his shoulder as Harry ruts against him, the friction between their hard cocks as erotic and fucking _good_ as any fuck. Louis thinks he could come just from this. His palms press into Harry’s biceps and drag along his shoulder blades, leaving bright and dark grainy handprints along Harry’s pale, milky skin.

Neither are strong enough to kiss anymore, Louis is too lost in the feel of Harry’s thrusts and Harry too exerted and sweaty from pushing his hips forward relentlessly. Their mouths are still together but they’re not so much kissing as they are panting into each other’s mouths, their hoarse breathing releasing itself in shallow bursts against the other’s lips. When Harry’s breath travels to the tip of his nose and he can no longer feel Harry’s mouth on his, Louis dares himself to opens his eyes. As his long lashes lift his eyelids he gasps as his vision befalls a vivid image of Harry’s filthy red mouth, bruised and open and so fucking inviting, and Louis can no longer take it.

He pulls Harry into a hungry kiss, allowing Harry to continue to rut against him as he drops a hand into a still wet patch of yellow paint. He brings it up to press flat against Harry’s chest, leaving a vivid, opaque, garish handprint between his nipples. He presses hard until Harry is sitting on Louis’ waist, his paint splattered chest rising and falling in rapid succession. Louis lifts himself up so Harry is sitting on his lap, his legs spread in front of him, and pulls Harry into a kiss using his still wet hands. He slides his hands down Harry’s collarbones with calculating slowness, leaving uneven stains of paint, halting the movement of their lips until it is simply skin pressing forcefully against skin.

Louis parts their lips with a low, deep moan, his breath still laboured and uneven as he leans to whisper in Harry’s ear, “I need to fuck you so bad.”

Harry groans, his forehead falling against Louis’ neck. “The stuff is in the bedr -”

“No,” Louis demands, grabbing him by the head and pulling him back to meet his eyes. Harry can barely keep his chin up, his breath slowly reducing to rapid hiccups. “I took it from the bedroom before I left. Just reach for it and let me fuck you already.”

Louis drops back onto the mat, the paint now slightly dryer and less slippery, thank _God_ , and waits with impatient, baited breath as Harry hastily reaches onto the carpet, long arms slipping into Louis’ pocket easily and extracting the lube and condom. Louis practically growls ‘Put it on me,’ desperate to be inside Harry, his cock so hard it was beginning to ache, and Harry did as he was told, quickly slipping the condom on and slicking it with lube. 

Harry passes Louis the lube so he can slick his fingers, and lifts his arse so Louis can slide a finger inside, opening him up slowly. Harry bites his lip, pulling it between his teeth, letting out a low gasp when Louis slid in another finger.

“Are you ready?” Louis breathes after a few minutes of slow fingering.

“ _Yes_.”

Gripping him by the hips and digging his nails into the soft flesh, Louis lifts Harry slightly to ease him onto his cock, and _fuck yes. Finally._ Harry’s mouth falls open in a silent moan as Louis enters him, his eyes squeezing shut and brow creasing at the fullness. His matted, sweaty curls fall across his forehead, sticking to the still-drying splatters of paint. Louis paces him, keeping his hands on Harry’s hips. Louis watches in fascination and wonder as Harry sinks down in slow, continuous motions, his hands braced against Louis’ soft tummy and moans becoming louder and more desperate by the second. Louis is so busy watching Harry to even take in the intense heat of being inside him, isn’t able to fully grasp the relief he feels finally being there.

He watches, his eyes wide and breath releasing itself in shallow gasps, watches the way Harry’s tongue peaks out between his parted lips and the lines in his forehead slowly ease, his lashes fanning softly against his dirty skin, and thinks Harry may be the single most beautiful creature he has seen in his entire life. And he’s so in love with him it hurts.

Harry continues to roll his hips forward frantically, flattening his palms every now and again to graze up and down the messy, vibrant swirl of colours that taint Louis’ chest. Louis keeps his movements achingly slow in comparison, running his hands along the softness of Harry’s thighs and occasionally slipping his fingers lower along the curve of the skin, close enough to graze his fingertips along his cock but never reaching. Harry is sensitive; one touch when he’s this far gone is enough to send him over the edge, and Louis wants to enjoy this as much as he can.

Fucking atop a paint-slicked, scratchy Twister mat would never be found on the list of world’s most popular kinks, yet somehow it is one of the hottest things Louis has ever experienced. Harry looks so fucking gorgeous like this, his head tilted to the side, resting atop his shoulder, his perfect tongue flicking out to lick at his kiss-bitten, cherry red lips, the paint splattered all over his body rendering him an absolute work of art as he thrusts onto his cock.

He has this terrible urge deep within him as he stares up at the sweaty, panting mess Harry has become, to absolutely wreck him, to whisper filthy words into his ear and demand he tell him how much he likes having Louis’ cock inside him, scream as loud as he can what an absolute cock slut he is. But he can’t, because he just looks so fucking perfect already that Louis doesn’t want to ruin it. All he really wants to do is hold him close and make him feel so good he’ll never want to leave that paint covered mat ever again.

So he surges upwards, crossing his legs so Harry is perched on his lap and wraps an arm around his back, using the other to cup the back of Harry’s neck. Harry gasps at the sudden movement, falling forward, Louis’ cock sliding deeper inside him as he attempts to catch his fall by clutching at Louis’ shoulders. Louis bucks his hip upward, using his grip on Harry’s neck to lift his head and slot their lips together. Harry’s high-pitched moan is lost in heat of Louis’ mouth and, when their lips break apart, he leans forward to groan into Louis’ ear, “I’m close, Lou, I’m so fucking close.”

Louis is close as well, his heart hammering in his chest and his breath releasing itself in short, gasping bursts against Harry’s upper lip. Harry’s forehead is pressed against Louis’ cheek, his cock clenched between their stomachs. He’s beginning to fall slack from exertion, his breath hitching dramatically and limbs hanging limply at his sides. Louis grips his hips and begins to control his thrusts, bucking upward to sink deeper into Harry’s ass.

“Babe, come on,” Louis breathes into his ear, "want you to come. Come with me.”

Steadying Harry’s hip with one hand, Louis drops his other to take hold of Harry’s cock and finish him off. Harry gasps as Louis tightens his hold and jerks him off quickly, continuing to push into him impetuously. As Louis’ hand strokes the head of Harry’s dick one last time, Harry cries out desperately, and Louis makes sure to catch his face as he spills over Louis’ stomach. His mouth is open wide, his groans becoming tiny, breathless whines. His eyes closed, long lashes casting shadows against his skin, he is so breathtakingly beautiful that it pushes Louis over the edge. His toes curl inward and he’s clutching at Harry’s shoulders, coming hot and pulsing inside him and falling backwards against the mat, pulling Harry along with him.

Collapsing on top of him with a low groan, Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders, his temple falling across Louis’ rising chest. There is tacky cum sticking to their stomachs, gluing them together and mixing with the various colours of paint, and Harry rolls off of him before it can dry. They lay next to each other, attempting to catch their breath, but so overwhelmed by the exquisite ecstasy it only seems to become more laboured. Louis drops his head to look at Harry, who is grinning as he stares at his chest.

“Look,” Harry says, his voice fucked out and hoarse, “my cum is pink.”

Lifting his head to observe the state of him, Louis sees that Harry is right, the pearly white liquid mixing with the red paint and turning it a shade of light pink. For some reason, perhaps due to his post-orgasmic bliss or the sheer absurdity of the situation, Louis bursts into hysterical laughter, eyes crinkling and mouth opening ridiculously wide as the sound overtakes him. Harry joins him, shifting onto his side to face Louis and clutching at his stomach. Louis lifts his hands to observe their state, laughing even harder when he can’t see a single patch of skin, the entirety of his hand up to his wrist slathered in drying paint.

As their laughter calms and settles into comfortable silence, Harry lifts his hand to dip in a stray puddle of green paint, reaching over to smear it across Louis’ face. He giggles loudly when Louis scrunches his nose as the cold paint brushes across it, leaving a patchy, messy line from his cheekbone to his chin. Clearly satisfied with his work, Harry rolls onto his stomach and kisses the corner of Louis’ mouth, careful to avoid the paint.

“You look perfect,” he says with a smile brighter than the red paint slathered over his forehead. He traces along the outlines of the handprints atop Louis’ chest, gaze thoughtful as he curves around the length of the fingers. Louis is desperately fond of him.

“I love you,” Louis says sincerely, his smile soft as he gazes at Harry.

Although Louis has said the words so many times repeating them has become almost redundant, Harry still manages to appear surprised. He laughs, raising his eyebrows in an expression that seems to ask ‘why?’

“Because you are literally,” Louis says dramatically, “the only person in the entire world who agrees to destroy the innocence of a childhood game by playing it naked and covered in paint.”

“You forgot getting fucked on it,” Harry replies, the sweetness in his grin utterly inconsequential to the filth of his words.

Louis grabs his hips and pulls him roughly on top of him, eliciting a surprised shriek from Harry. He leans upward to kiss him, his back sticking to the mat slightly because of the paint. Harry falls pliant against him, kissing back greedily. Louis smirks against his mouth as he dips his right hand in a bit of paint, lifting it to fist into Harry’s hair and pull him closer. Harry opens his eyes slowly, his lips going slack against Louis’ before he removes them.

“Did you just…” He lifts himself up, straddling Louis’ hips and groping the back of his head.

Louis grins mischievously beneath him. “Shower? Round two?”

The smile Harry matches him with is equally naughty. He presses his hands against Louis’ chest and pushes himself off of him, rising with a pop of his foot. He winks down at Louis. “Two steps ahead of ya.”


End file.
